fandomtownies | The Dreamlands to the causeway, Monday morning

The King in Yellow had brought them here, his dancers had cut them, he'd promised and cajoled and threatened Arthur to get him to separate from John, but they were still together and stood tall against him.

"You’ve turned down the easy option, Arthur," The King's voice, that voice that sounded so much and nothing like John's, was dark. "That was a mistake. After I am whole again, I will flay you alive for eons, over and over, allowing time for your skin to heal, before peeling off another layer. You’ll become my personal pet."

Arthur set his jaw. "You can’t separate us, not unless we’re willing to do so."

"Yes, and I’m done waiting. I’ve given you plenty of time and now I’m bored. More active means of persuasion are needed and I promise you, in the end, I will get what I need."

It might have sent chills through a less stubborn man. Or through a man with anything else left to lose. But Arthur shook his head. "No."

"No?"

"You don’t know how to —"

A spike of pain accompanied the crunch of breaking bones. Arthur cried out in pain as his lower leg felt like it was on fire.

John yelled in his head, "ARTHUR!" Arthur wanted to answer, but panted in agony, trying to regain his breath.

"How’s that feel?" the King asked mockingly.

"Jesus fucking Christ!" Arthur would not give him the satisfaction of answering.

"This is my domain, child! Now, that was just the tibia of your right leg. Here’s the femur."

"Wait, wait, wait —" That bone broke, too, and Arthur shouted in pain and collapsed.

"ARTHUR!" John's attention turned to the King. "STOP!"

"Stop? This is just the beginning," the King declared. "I am going to break every bone over and over again, mutilate your fingers and toes while you writhe in agony. Break your teeth and your ribs one at a time as you lay feeling every tug at your innards!"

"Wait!"

"What?"

John hesitated. "What if I decide to leave this body? What happens then?"

Arthur gasped in pain. "No! No, John! No...!"

"You want to leave now?" the King sounded far too smug.

"Maybe...yes."

"John, no!" Arthur wanted to scream, 'I can't lose another person!'

"Why the change of heart?" the King asked.

"You know why, now will you do it?"

The King gave a shuddering growl. There was another crunch, more pain on top of the rest, and Arthur shouted despite himself.

"STOP."

"You’ll leave him and come back to me," the King insisted.

"If you let him be. If you leave him alone and alive. Get him home safely," John insisted.

"Sure," the King promised easily.

"John, no!" Arthur managed through the pain. "We can’t trust him — you know this!"

"He’ll do it, or I’ll fight him every step of the way," John insisted.

"Is that so?" the King asked dismissively.

"You’ll be at war with yourself internally for all time otherwise," John growled

The King laughed.

"John, no! Please!" Arthur pleaded.

"It’s the only way, Arthur," John said sadly. "You know that."

"Deal," the King declared.

"No!" Arthur insisted.

"Now come home."

Arthur opened his bag, rifling through it by touch, until he came to the dagger that Kayne had given to them.

"Arthur? What are you doing with the dagger?" John asked warily.

"I’m going to kill him!" Arthur gripped it tighter. Despite his weakness, his broken bones, his blindness, he would do it, somehow, if it would keep him and John together.

John sighed. "Arthur, it’s futile."

"Maybe!" Arthur acknowledged. But Kayne was obviously something else powerful. "Maybe the dagger is... I..."

"You cannot defeat me, Arthur Lester." The King sounded supremely sure of himself.

"We can’t," John agreed quietly.

Arthur wanted to cry, but he refused. "I..." He weakly agreed, "I can’t defeat you..." He opened the music box he could feel next to the dagger. It played the last portion of the lullaby. Faroe's lullaby. He closed it slowly and took as deep a breath as he could before continuing, determined, "But I don’t have to let you win."

"What?"

"What?"

John and the King both sounded confused, but Arthur nodded decisively as he picked up the dagger again. "That’s... that’s what Daniel told me. John, it wasn’t that life is loss. He said... he said, 'You cannot defeat it, but you don’t have to let it win.'"

"Arthur..." Some of his trepidation leaked to Arthur.

Arthur wished he could hold him, comfort him. All he could do was say calmly, "I know what this dagger is for."

"Don’t!" John pleaded.

"Goodbye, John." He raised the dagger.

"ARTHUR!"

He pointed it at his neck and stabbed as deeply as he could.

"NO!"

Tears leaked from their eyes, and Arthur could feel them stream over his cheeks, but couldn't tell if they were his or John's. He felt the blood and the pain of his neck eclipsing all the small hurts, overtaking the pain of his crushed leg. Then there was a rushing, and...

"Arthur, something's happening!"

The King roared in anger, but it was sounded further away, fading. Maybe this was it, then. Maybe he was dying.

He collapsed backward and felt the stone under him, but he could swear it felt like sunlight on his skin. Not a bad illusion to fade off to. The dagger fell from his hand and he managed to smile a little.

"Arthur, stop!" John's hand fumbled at his neck, trying to stanch the bleeding. "Hold on, Arthur!"

Arthur couldn't manage speech, but he nodded slightly to show he could hear.

"Arthur, I think we're back on Earth somehow! Hold on, please!"

That was a sweet lie, John. Arthur couldn't quite believe it, but it was nice. He focused on his thankfulness and hoped it leaked through to John as his consciousness faded.

On the causeway, a man skeletal and malnourished, in clothes so ragged they couldn't be identified, leg broken, with his left hand clutching at a bleeding neck wound, appeared and collapsed.

[Expecting help, but feel free to show up before then! All dialogue in the Dreamlands from Malevolent.]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Travis was just out for his morning walk with Probie when she went absolutely nuts, barking and signaling and dragging him to the causeway where —

Travis swore. “Hello?” he called, running over to where the man — the body? — lay. “Hey, can you hear me?”

"Arthur, there's someone here! Wake up, Arthur!"

John was yelling. That probably wasn't good. Arthur tried to get up, only managing a twitch of his leg before the pain nearly made him black out again. "J..."

Alive, maybe minimally conscious.

“I’m Travis Montgomery,” Travis said, starting a careful triage exam. “Fandom Fire Department. Can you tell me your name?”

Sorry, Travis, but Arthur wasn't processing much at the moment.

Which wasn't helped much by John yelling in his head. "Arthur, wake up! Stay with me! Don't do this again!"

John, in his defense, couldn't do much else but use Arthur's foot to try to turn them over while he kept pressure as best he could on the neck wound that had just missed their jugular.

"Hey, don't try to move," Travis said, carefully resting his hand on the . . . guy's? . . . shoulder. "Just relax, alright? I've got you."

Probie lay down gently along the man's side, offering her warmth to help stave off shock, as Travis started checking along his spine before attempting to roll him over.

Arthur's spine was fine; probably one of the few parts of him that was (barring calcium deficiency). Right now the biggest problems were that obviously broken right leg and the blood making its way past his left hand and into his three months' beard growth and ratty formerly-yellow robes. The bag with him clinked as he bumped against it rolling over, hitting the dagger he'd dropped.

"That's it," Travis said, trying to keep his tone level and soothing even as his brow furrowed as he took in . . . everything.

What the fuck had this guy gone through?

"Obvious deformity to the right -- everything," Travis muttered as Probie shifted back into place along Arthur's side. "Looks like a laceration to the throat. Fuck, why didn't I bring a med kit?"

Because he was just walking his dog on the normally quiet island streets.

He slipped off his jacket and wadded it into a compress, then carefully tried to pull that left hand away.

"Let me see that, sir. Once we get that bleeding controlled, I'll get you to the clinic, okay?"

Really, the med kit was like an umbrella - you could carry it everywhere without needing it, but the second you didn't have it...

Luckily, even if Arthur couldn't process what was happening, John could. He wasn't much stronger than Arthur, but he could manage to look up at the man through half-lidded eyes and reluctantly, suspiciously, let go of Arthur's neck.

"That's it," Travis said as soothingly as possible. No spurting blood, that was a good sign, but how the hell did this guy get stabbed in the neck?

He hadn't noticed the dagger yet. He was a little distracted by all the . . . everything else.

He kept up a litany of soothing words as he quickly replaced that hand with his jacket, using the sleeves to bind it firmly in place, then checking to make sure it didn't interfere with the man's breathing.

"Probie, go get a rickshaw. I don't think this guy's up to being carried all the way to the clinic."

Probie hopped back up and dashed to the town streets, barking to get the attention of the closest passing rickshaw. Travis looked down at that right leg again and grimaced.

"I'm going to look for something to brace your leg so I can move you. I'll be right back."

Arthur wasn't going anywhere! He had no plans but lying perfectly still and bleeding.

"Arthur," John tried again. "I don't know if we can trust this guy, but he's helping us for now. Stay with me!" He savagely pinched the skin on Arthur's collarbone.

Arthur startled into a bit more awareness. "John?" he managed to mumble.

"Yes, Arthur! That's it. We're away from the King. Stay with me now."

Arthur hummed in agreement.

Travis had managed to find a couple decent sized sticks and was back after a few minutes, back to muttering soothingly as he laid the sticks out along the man's leg and pulled out poop bags to use to tie them in place.

"This is probably going to hurt."

He braced the leg as gently as he could as Probie returned, leading a bemused rickshaw driver.

John wouldn't feel it, but he watched Travis and braced for Arthur's reaction, clenching his hand.

Arthur realized what was going on about the same time Travis started; the saving grace was he was too weak to yell too loudly.

"I know, I know," Travis said. "Almost -- done." He sat back on his heels and let the man breathe for a moment, then looked over at the rickshaw driver. "Can you help me get him into the back? He needs the clinic."

The rickshaw driver nodded quickly, eyes wide, and hurried over to help lift.

"On three," Travis said, getting his hands under Arthur's calves. "One, two, three!"

They lifted and hurried him over to the rickshaw. As soon as he was settled, Probie jumped back in to sit against his side again, sharing her warmth.

"Good girl," Travis muttered. "Alright, let's go!"

The Dreamlands to the causeway, Monday morning

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject